Covert Operations
by booingbooingmofos
Summary: We were just a science experiment. The bunch of us. They told me that this experiment was the only reason I was, that my parents never wanted me, and I believed them then, but now, I'm having my doubts. Canon.


**Summary- We were just a science experiment. The bunch of us. They told me that this experiment was the only reason I was, that my parents never wanted me, and I believed them then, but now, I'm having my doubts.**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing.**

**Rating- M for Violence, language and some scenarios…possibly..maybe…idk.**

**A.N- I will be bullshitting a lot since I'm not a very smart person, but I'll try to be evasive towards scientific explanations, hope ya'll enjoy this, and please review. And**

**Covert Operations. **

**Chapter 1. **

**BPOV**.

We were just a science experiment. The bunch of us. They told me that this experiment was the only reason I was born, that my parents never wanted me, and I believed them then, but now, I'm having my doubts.

It's been 7 years since they took me in, 7 years since someone said my name. Now I'm simply known as subject no. 213.

I lay my hand flat on the glass wall of the cylindrical chamber I was enclosed in, as I lean forward and fog up a small spot with my breath.

One of the scientists is standing in front of me, on the other side of the glass chamber, observing my every move, jotting them down on a device of sorts. I look at him straight in the eyes and carve BELLA SWAN on the fogged spot and looked at him innocently, reminding him that I haven't forgotten who I am, nor am I ever going to. He doesn't need to know that inside, I was laughing deviously at his wide eyed expression, he was a newbie. He won't tell. Hopefully not.

I move back to the center of the chamber and sit down cross-legged facing away from the prying eyes of the researches, scientists, and raving lunatics. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing to calm down.

Becoming angry will just make things worse, the last thing I need is to be electrocuted to unconsciousness. I know what happen when they punish someone for misbehaving, it ain't pretty.

14 years old, that was my age when I witnessed Maria getting the electric treatment, poor thing had drool dripping from her mouth for days, and had to be disposed with as she later succumbed to madness.

Poor Maria, all she did was spit in the docs face for trying to shoot something up her arm.

I was later injected with the same, a lot milder though, because they found Marcus who was of my age, vomiting blood until he dropped dead with his eyes rolled back in his head. I saw that too, from my glass chamber. Poor Marcus. Sometimes, I can still hear his screams of agony at night. I hope he haunts these motherfuckers for life.

A knocking sound breaks me out of my meditation as I see jr. standing there in all his douche glory, waiting with handcuffs, informing me its time to go to my room.

Everyday from 8a.m to 7 p.m we'd be here, contained in the glass, when in need of loo, we were to be escorted with heavy chains, so we don't escape, and then escorted back to the chamber. Food and pills would be supplied in the chamber, along with some books and other things to entertain ourselves with. They kept us as healthy as they could, they needed us to be strong, that is why, when that time comes, to be injected and prodded with, they strap us down with …straps.

I get up and walk towards the guard who was standing beside doc, my head hanging down. Now I know what you're thinking, I sound so brave, then why am I acting like a coward and not holding my head high? Well to answer that question, I'm not fucking stupid, I've got enough bruises on my abdomen from being kneed for doing nothing at all, I don't need more. For now, It's best to stay low. The more innocent they think you are, the lower their guard stays.

Walking towards the heavy iron door, I look sideways to the chamber at the far corner, and give the person inside a small nod and a smile, informing him, _everythings going to be okay. _

Seth Clearwater, now 13, was brought in when he was just 9. He isn't in the same experiment as me, which is a good thing, but he's being trained to be the ultimate emotionless soldier. They have him isolated, they have him beat down, they have him brainwashed; yet he stands strong, not letting them get to him. The boy has good sense of right and wrong. It's a wonder he's hung on for so long, but I'm afraid he isn't going to last long; I can see the light vanishing from his eyes. But he still manages to give me a small smile.

How do I know all of this about everything that goes on around here? Well that's my little secret, lets just say, there's a reason I was being experimented on.

I'm Isabella Swan, subject no. 213 of the covert Human Experimental Programme, and I'm getting the hell out of here.


End file.
